You Wanna Bet?
by brownpaperbags
Summary: In which Arthur and Merlin make a bet with an unexpected outcome. No slash. Read, review, it all makes me happy.
1. Warrior Prince

The knights of Camelot are said to be the bravest, strongest warriors in all of the kingdoms. The knightly code they share and the lives they swear to protect brand them as brothers. They fight as one, eat as one, breathe as one. It should be no surprise then, with all that brotherly sharing, that they all dreaded the same daily event. Training with Prince Arthur.

It wasn't that the crown prince lacked talent. The knights many bruises were a testament of the young man's aptitude on the battlefield. Arthur was not a coward, nor was he in any way deficient as a leader. No, what the knights dreaded was that Arthur did not take defeat lightly, even by those who were sworn to protect him. He was a ferocious fighter and it was rumored by many of the younger, newer knights that he was unbeatable. The veterans of the group did nothing to dissuade this line of thinking, less their naïve brothers get cocky.

Day after day, quivering new bloods were sent onto the field to face the young prince in open combat. Arthur would wait quietly, his sword drawn casually in his hands and when the young knight approached he acknowledged him with a knowing smile. This smile, more than anything else, sent shivers down the knights spines. It was a smile of a man completely confident in his skills, a man who, if you were his enemy, would not hesitate to cut you down.

It did not take long for at least one of the knights to make a fool out of himself and it was clear that Arthur thoroughly enjoyed it when they did. The older knights knew not to take the princes teasing to heart. After all, no one could deny that Arthur cared a great deal about the individual safety and happiness of each of his men. The new bloods, however, often became frustrated at Arthur's jibes and mocking laughter. They wanted someone to take the young prince down a peg or two, but could not think of anyone up for the job. They would never realize that the man who would accomplish this seemingly impossible task was not a knight at all, but someone who hated the daily trainings with similar vehemence.


	2. A Tale of Arthur and a Water Pitcher

Merlin had known it was going to be a rough morning the moment he opened his eyes. He usually tried to have an upbeat attitude from the instant he started his day because he knew, by the end of it, he would be ready to throw something, usually in the general direction of His Royal Prattyness. No matter how hard he tried, however, his usual burst of optimism kept slipping through his fingers.

He'd woken up late, which wasn't unusual, but he felt that after all the hard work he put in for the prince, recognized or not, he deserved a few perks. Normally this wouldn't be a problem. He usually arrived late to Arthur's chambers and believed that if he actually arrived on time Arthur might die of shock. So Merlin decided to be consistent with his tardiness, all in the name of the prince's safety, of course. However, Merlin hadn't planned on the list of errands Gaius had left him beside his now cold breakfast, all of which needed to be completed before attending to the prince.

Merlin could have left the errands for later, of course. But somehow dealing with an angry Arthur was much more appealing than dealing with an angry Gaius. And besides, Arthur thoroughly enjoyed making things hard on his servant. Who was he to deny his prince the simple pleasures in life?

Merlin finished with the errands as quickly as possible, but still managed to arrive at Arthur's chambers much later than he should have. He was in a rather foul mood, especially after having a rank smelling concoction of Gaius's spill all over his only pair of shoes. He knew that he would be teased mercilessly over his clumsiness and while he understood that the prince would not mean to be hurtful, the idea still bothered him.

So it was with less enthusiasm than usual that Merlin burst into the slumbering prince's chambers, without so much as a knock.

"Rise and shine, you great clotpole," he called, while unceremoniously tossing the heavy drapes aside.

Sunshine spilled through and filled the room with dusky light. Merlin turned around just in time to see Arthur's face disappear beneath the blankets. A muffled reply came to him from underneath the lump of sheets. Merlin could not make out the words, but guessed it went something like "Go away Merlin!"

"Get up," Merlin snapped, impatience coloring his tone a bit more than he had intended.

"No," came the response, and as if to prove his point, Arthur buried himself even deeper into his blanket cave.

Merlin sighed. He knew that he really shouldn't take any enjoyment out of what he had to do next, but he also understood that it was useless trying not to. He closed the drapes, as if in defeat, before proceeding to the small table on the far side of Arthur's room. Waiting there, as it was every morning, was the pitcher of water set out in case the prince needed to quench his thirst during the night.

Clutching the pitcher tightly in his arms, less he drop it, Merlin moved as stealthily as he could to the prince's bedside. He didn't have to wait long before Arthur's head popped out from beneath the covers, eyes closed and face adorned with the peaceful expression that can only be achieved in sleep. Somehow this made Merlin's task even more enjoyable and he had to fight hard to keep from laughing. He allowed the prince one more moment of peace before dumping the night-chilled water all over Arthur's face.

Arthur jerked as if he had been slapped, arms and legs flailing as he tried to untangle himself from his sheets. One misaimed blow knocked the metal pitcher from Merlin's outstretched hands and it crashed against the floor with a heavy clang. Unintelligible sounds echoed from where the prince had almost freed himself and Merlin got the distinct impression that Arthur was attempting to curse and spit the offending water from his mouth at the same time. It was more than Merlin had ever hoped for.

"Good morning, Sire," he said again with much more cheer than his first attempt. He threw the drapes open once more and was about to turn and face his undoubtedly angry friend when something hard and cold collided with his head. Spots exploded into his vision and he was sure that he heard a distant, muffled ringing. He swayed slightly and when he put his arm out to steady himself his hand landed on warm, damp skin.

Merlin jerked back, nearly falling over backwards as he did so, but Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder and steadied him again.

"That was a bit dramatic don't you think," Merlin snapped, rubbing the tender lump forming on his skull.

"Hardly," Arthur replied as he pushed his water plastered hair from his forehead, the end result being a rather rooster like tuff of hair sticking straight up. "If, for example, I had decided to string you up for a day or two you might get away with calling it dramatic. This, however, was perfectly fitting."

The two men stood glaring at each other for a long moment, each unwilling to be the one to apologize. In the end, Arthur went with his reliable and often called upon friend the subject change.

"Uh, Merlin," he said, with a glance at the table where the pitcher once stood. "Did you forget something?"

"No," Merlin instantly replied, even though he was sure he had. He just couldn't remember what it was.

"Really," Arthur prompted with all the casualness of a jungle cat stalking its prey. "Because it appears to me that something is missing. Perhaps you would like to guess what that might be."

Merlin pretended to think for a long moment, pressing his lips together and squeezing his eyes shut as if in deep concentration.

"Your brain," he finally ventured, taking a quick step back in case Arthur decided to hit him again.

"No, you idiot," Arthur snapped, exasperation clear in his voice. "My breakfast!"

"Ohhhh," Merlin said. "You aren't having a good morning, are you Sire? Missing your breakfast AND your brain. It must be difficult to be you, but don't worry nobody holds your stupidity against you."

Arthur's eyes grew wide and his lips pinched together in, what would be a comical expression, if Merlin did not know the prince's angry face so well. Merlin skipped to the side, narrowly avoiding the pitcher again and practically bounded from the room like a deer fleeing for its life.


	3. Of Stew Pots and Petty Vindettas

By midafternoon Merlin wasn't entirely sure his prank had been worth it. After grabbing the prince a measly breakfast of cheese, two pieces of slightly burnt sausage and some apricots he was sent by a still irate Arthur to clean his armor. Arthur rarely inspected the job he did, usually trusting the servant to at least make it passable. Today, however, the prince was in rare form. The tiniest mark on the metal was to be redone and by the time Merlin was finished his fingers were aching and his stomach was growling for attention.

He had hoped that he would be able to slip off for a quick bite before afternoon training began, but Arthur would have none of it. He remained adamant that his servant remain at his side because, as he explained to anyone who would listen, Merlin needed constant supervision due to him being dropped as an infant. It did not matter that most of the people told already knew Merlin, and though they frequently wondered if he was entirely sane, they knew without a doubt he had not been brain damaged as a child.

When Arthur dined with his father for lunch, the young man made sure to sabotage Merlin into dropping whatever was in his hands every chance he could. The final straw came when Arthur casually kicked Merlin's feet out from under him without missing a beat in the conversation between himself and the king. Arthur had not known, of course, that Merlin had been carrying the stew pot in from the kitchens to offer seconds when he tripped his servant. Arthur's eyes widened slightly as he caught a glimpse of the giant tub of stew flipping up and over, spilling its contents all over the floor and the fallen man, and landing with a thud on the servant's chest.

Arthur could tell the tub had knocked the breath from Merlin's lungs and he felt an immediate flash of guilt, but he was horribly aware of his father's eyes upon him and opted to laugh nervously.

"Merlin you idiot," he said, not feeling nearly as confident and at ease as he sounded. "Can't you manage one hour without falling all over yourself?"

Merlin glared at Arthur from the floor, gasping in air as the stew soaked into his clothes. Arthur attempted to send an apology through his eyes, but Merlin was having none of it. Arthur watched in mild alarm as his manservant suddenly stood up, fists clenching handfuls of meat and vegetables that had once belonged in broth.

"You," he gasped raising his fists as if to throw his edible ammunition. "You royal as-"

Arthur, realizing his intentions, quickly stood from his chair and covered his servants mouth with the palm of his hand. He shot a worried glance at his father who was watching the unfolding events with one eyebrow raised. Merlin attempted to pull away but Arthur held firm and promptly jerked the young man around to face his father. It was clear, by the way Merlin tensed that he realized the extent of the mistake he had been close to making. It was one thing to call the prince a royal ass in private, but another to say it in front of his father.

"Arthur," Uther inquired, only briefly glancing at Merlin in bewilderment. "What was that?"

"Nothing," Arthur replied, a little too quickly judging by his father's frown. He quickly stepped back from Merlin who stood silently dripping stew. "We-uh, I mean, he-uh, well he-"

"I was cursing at the pot, my lord," Merlin said quietly when it became obvious that Arthur's attempt at an explanation was going nowhere.

"You were cursing…..at the pot," Uther repeated in disbelief.

"Yes," came Merlin's quick reply. "It helps, you see. I am sure Prince Arthur has told you that I am rather clumsy and I have found that cursing at whatever trips me helps make it less….embarrassing."

Arthur looked at the back of his manservant's head rather strangely. For someone who claimed to be the worst liar in the world, Merlin was awfully quick to come up with an unlikely but plausible story. It was another piece of the Merlin puzzle that Arthur would file away to dissect another day. For now, he was only able to wait with baited breath for his father's answer.

Uther glanced at the dripping servant and then back at Arthur, who would not meet his eyes. He had decided long ago not to interfere with whatever acts of lunacy the young men managed to find themselves in, but this was by far the strangest occurrence he'd ever had with the two of them. Well, perhaps not the strangest. That award would go to the humiliating marriage between himself and a certain troll, but he tried not think of that too often, less he lose his lunch.

This aside, Uther could not remember a time where the men were actually angry with each other, but his son's manservant was visibly seething. Arthur, for his part, looked particularly guilty and kept glancing at his servant with what could only be trepidation. Uther sighed and wished that he could roll his eyes, but such an expression was hardly kingly so he settled with furrowing his brow in annoyance.

"You will keep your curses to yourself when you are in my presence," Uther said coldly. "The next time it happens I will have you in the stocks. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sire," Merlin replied, respectfully bowing, meat and vegetables sliding from his hair to the floor. He looked from the new pile of food on the stone to the king with minor embarrassment, before he got on his hands and knees and attempted to clean the mess with his neckerchief.

"Merlin," Arthur said softly. He watched as his serva-no, his friend, tensed at the sound of his name and Arthur knew the young man was mortified. Merlin pretended not to hear him and went on his futile mission to clean the floor.

"Merlin," Arthur said, louder this time. He put a hand on the man's shoulder and was surprised to feel a knot of muscle bunched up there. "We'll have someone else take care of this, go clean yourself up."

Merlin paused and lightly shrugged Arthur's hand from his shoulder. This simple gesture of defiance and anger only intensified Arthur's guilt. He hated feeling guilty. Why should he have to feel guilty about anything? He was the crown prince, for God's sake!

"Now," Arthur snapped, hauling Merlin up by the arm and slightly pushing him towards the door. Arthur barely caught the look of hurt and anger that passed over his servants face and he knew that he would be paying for his little act of revenge for weeks to come.


	4. Place Your Bets

The sun was far into its westerly track across the sky by the time Merlin reappeared from wherever he had been lurking. He came striding across the training grounds, mindful of the various dangers that accompanied Arthur's playground and took up his usual spot in the small nook that provided some protection from the raging sun. From his vantage point he could see the entire field and everyone coming on or off of it and while he had never had any issues here he was glad of the chance to make his job of protecting Arthur easier.

Today, however, he wanted to protect Arthur very little. In fact, he was so disinclined to protect Arthur he toyed with the idea of telling Morgana to do as she pleased. She would get no opposition from him, that was for sure.

As usual, the thought of Uther's ward brought a frown to his face and he sighed. He had wished so often that things had been different. He replayed different scenes over and over again in his mind, trying to find where he had gone wrong. Gaius had told him, many times in fact, that he shouldn't blame himself, but somehow he felt that Morgana was his responsibility. Perhaps if he had confided in her as she had confided in him than things would be different.

However, as he knew all too well, the past was the past and no amount of wishing could change that. He would have to make due with the cards fate had dealt him, regardless of how cruel they may seem. His only option was to stop Morgana and her plans, but he was finding it extremely difficult to maintain constant vigilance on her and protect Arthur from the many other magical beings that wanted to kill him.

Merlin snorted. What was it about Arthur that made people he'd never even met want to throttle him? Sure, Merlin thought of throttling Arthur at least once a day, but he felt he had earned that privilege. He would never understand how people could hate a man that hadn't even wronged them yet.

He was jarred from his thoughts by Arthur's triumphant cry. He looked on with pity at the young knight who had attempted to best him and got laughter and a mouthful of dirt for his efforts. The knight rose to his feet and looked dejectedly at the young prince. It was clear the young knight idolized him, but Arthur, as blind as ever, didn't notice.

"Did you see that," he called to the watching men. "It wasn't even a fair fight. He was beaten before he had even begun."

It was only then that Arthur looked over and found Merlin in his chosen location. Merlin was glaring at him and Arthur choked down the rest of the jokes he had been about to make at the young knight's expense.

"Alright, Merlin," he asked, not really expecting an answer.

True to form, Merlin pursed his lips and refused to reply. Merlin really was an expert at the silent treatment and if Arthur was honest with himself, it was the worst sort of punishment his friend could give him. He would prefer it if Merlin yelled and called him names, but Merlin only did that when he was happy or mildly annoyed. No, when Merlin was angry, truly angry, he would shut himself off from Arthur tighter than a clam shell and no amount of prodding would get him to open up again until he was good and ready to. Arthur hated it.

"Fine," he snapped at his men, his frustration sharpening his words. "I want half of you running sword drills and the other half practicing your aim with the bow. Leon, you take group one and I will school these pansies on how to shoot an arrow."

The veteran knight smiled slightly and quietly collected his group and began his drills. Arthur often wondered how he stayed as calm as he did. Even when his father had married the troll, Leon had been the face of serenity. Odd man, that one; a great one, to be sure, but odd.

Merlin watched as Arthur led his group of men to the row of targets arranged on the outside corner of the practice field. Arthur split the men into two rows, each row alternating between the two men and shooting an arrow apiece. Arthur, of course, had an entire target to himself. He loaded his bow with expert fingers and was barely finished pulling the string back before he loosed his arrow. It smacked into the target with a satisfying thunk and Merlin watched as Arthur's preening smile took over the prats face.

An idea began to form in Merlin's mind and while he knew he should listen to his inner Gaius and not use his gifts for revenge, getting even was far too tempting. He rose from his perch and made his way slowly to where Arthur was reloading his bow, weaving in and out of the knights.

"Come to apologize have you," Arthur mumbled, concentrating on his bow.

"Apologize," Merlin scoffed quietly. "To a prat like you? Hardly. I've come to make a little wager with you."

Arthur paused, the arrow he had been about to load sticking out from between his teeth. Merlin was reminded of a dog with a bone who had just been told there was an even bigger treat waiting for him. Arthur never turned down a challenge.

"A bet," Arthur asked, gently removing the arrow from his mouth. "I didn't think you were the gambling type, Merlin."

"I'm not," Merlin shrugged. "But its hardly considered gambling if you can't lose."

This certainly peeked Arthur's interest, as Merlin had known it would. He stared incredulously at his servant for a long moment, not even realizing most of his men had stopped to watch the exchange.

The men knew that the relationship between the prince and his servant was highly unorthodox, but hardly thought about it anymore. The sight of the two of them together was so commonplace that the knights would be more likely to take notice if Merlin was missing from his prince's side. In fact, most of them found Merlin's antics to be rather amusing, though they would never admit this to the prince. They found it oddly refreshing that Arthur could, in fact, be humbled like a normal human being and no one could do it as well as Merlin. So, any chance they had to watch Merlin make a mortal out of the prince was one they relished.

"What could you possibly do so well that you can't lose," Arthur asked his manservant, his cocky smile growing by the minute. "Besides fall over, that is."

Merlin took the jibe gracefully knowing that Arthur's time would come.

"I bet that I can make more arrows hit the bullseye than you can,"

Merlin answered watching in amusement as Arthur's eyebrows went up in shock.

There was silence for a long moment while Arthur tried to figure out if Merlin was playing a prank on him. His servant only stared at him expectantly and with a jolt of surprise Arthur realized the man was being entirely serious.

"Merlin," Arthur whispered to his friend, attempting to give the young man and easier, less embarrassing way out. "Think this through for a moment. How could you, the idiot, beat me?"

"Why don't you stop acting like such a girl and find out," came Merlin's heated reply.

Arthur was not amused. Not only had he said something so blatantly disrespectful in front of men he was supposed to lead, but he had stolen Arthur's signature insult. Arthur decided that he was not going to spare his manservant's pride, no matter what he had done earlier.

"You've got a deal," Arthur snapped. "What are the conditions?"

"If I win you get to muck out the stables for a week," Merlin replied, trying not to sound too confident lest he give himself away.

"And if I win?"

"Whatever you think to be a proper prize."

"A day in the stocks."

"Done."

The two men shook hands, both confident in their chances of winning. Merlin, of course, had no intention of playing fair and if it had been anyone else but Arthur, this may have sullied his victory, but as it was Merlin was ready to beat Arthur at his own game.


	5. Even the Little Guys Win Sometime

"Ladies first," Arthur smirked, gesturing for his manservant to take his place at the archery line.

"Don't you think you are being a bit redundant," Merlin said, frowning and refusing to move.

"What?"

"Redundant," Merlin sighed as if talking to an idiot, which to some degrees he was. "Repeating an idea that has already been-"

"I know what redundant means, Merlin," Arthur snapped, trying not to notice his men's grins unsuccessfully hidden behind their hands. Arthur hated it when Merlin managed to get the upper hand.

"Could have fooled me," Merlin shrugged.

"Enlighten me on how I am being redundant, Merlin."

"We've already established that you're a girl, Arthur. You need to come up with some insults on your own."

"But that is MY insult," Arthur exclaimed, finally losing his temper. "You stole it!"

Most men would quell at the sight of Arthur looming over him with a sword at his side, but Merlin merely raised his eyebrows.

"That's hardly sportsman-like," he told Arthur sagely. "And here I thought you had a knight's code to follow."

There were moments, fleeting as they were, that Arthur wished Merlin had been born a nobleman. He would have loved to have him as a knight, though he would never admit this to the man. Merlin could be unquestionably loyal, the past few years had proved that to Arthur, but he could also stand up to the prince in a way few could. This, more than anything else, was why he liked Merlin. He treated Arthur as if he were a man, never giving praise unless he deserved it and always ready to dole out heaps of usually unwanted advice. He questioned him when he was wrong and though Arthur rarely showed it he appreciated his honesty. There would also be the added element of pummeling him without an ounce of guilt, but that was hardly the main reason. The more he thought about it, however, the more he realized that if Merlin had been born with noble blood he would cease to be Merlin and that was a thought that terrified him.

"Fine," he finally snapped, shaking away his thoughts. "I'll go first since you are obviously too scared."

Wrenching the bow from Merlin's hands he unceremoniously shoved the younger man behind him, not noticing his servant's smile. If he had noticed he might have paused and wondered why the young man, who as far as knew, had never shot a bow in his life, looked so damn confident.

He loaded the bow up as he had done so many times before and turned to face his servant. "Three arrows," he said. "We each shoot three arrows and whoever gets the most on the bullseye wins."

Merlin nodded his agreement and made a little shooing motion with his hands.

"Let's not keep everyone waiting then," he said, sounding far more gleeful than Arthur felt he should have in this situation.

"Right," Arthur replied, raising the bow up to his shoulder. "Who's ready for me to make this idiot cry?"

Merlin could barely keep the smirk from his face. Not that Arthur would have noticed, he was too busy bragging, but his men's eyes were on his face. He knew he would have to watch how enthusiastic he got when he used his magic. It was one thing for Arthur's arrow to miss by a little bit, but something entirely different if Merlin accidentally made the arrow go completely off target. No one would believe the prince would miss that horribly and the jig would be up.

He was extremely pleased that he wouldn't have to mumble a spell beneath his breath as he usually did. Moving objects had been something he had been doing since birth, a fact he frequently reminded Gaius of. He readied himself as Arthur pulled the string back, shielding his eyes with a hand as if protecting them from the sun's bright rays. In actuality he was hiding the brilliant flash of gold that would run through his eyes when the magic left him. It would not end well for him if somebody managed to see that. He suddenly got an image of himself being executed because he had wanted to play a prank on Arthur. Gaius would furious. The thought didn't make it any less worth it and Merlin turned his attention back to the prince.

Arthur loosed the arrow and Merlin watched it fly, his eyes flashing golden as he moved the arrows trajectory an inch to the side. He felt the magic leave him, a warm rush through his fingertips and toes and he was left with the sense of euphoria using his magic always brought him. Perhaps he would not enjoy the feeling as much if he were able to use it all the time, but as it was he rarely got the chance to practice. It was like welcoming an old friend, loyal and true, back into his life. It felt….right.

Arthur watched in amazement as his arrow clunked into the wood a mere inch from his target. He frowned. He had been sure that he had aimed just right, but he understood that arrows were subject to the laws of nature just as much as any of them were. A simple gust of wind could knock the arrow from its path, though Arthur didn't remember feeling any wind.

It wasn't like he had anything to worry about, anyways. Merlin was sure to lose this bet no matter how far Arthur got from the bullseye and he found himself wondering, once more, why the servant would make a bet he surely couldn't win. Did he really enjoy the stocks that much? If that were the case he could always just ask to be put there and Arthur would be more than happy to oblige his request. There was no reason for his servant to humiliate himself so thoroughly.

No, Arthur knew there was more to this than the servant was letting on. He just couldn't figure out what the young man's angle could be. He threw a look back at his servant and was surprised to see the young man standing calmly behind him, not an ounce of worry on his open face.

"Well done," he said in what sounded like honest awe, but there was a mocking tone beneath his words that was meant entirely for Arthur. The prince didn't miss it and frowned.

Arthur turned his attention back to his last two arrows, suddenly getting the urge to not only beat his servant but to beat him so thoroughly Merlin would be feeling the shame for weeks.

"You thought that was well done," Arthur snapped. "Well watch this."

He loosed his second arrow, sure that it would hit the bullseye, but found himself surprised once again that it missed its target by a mere inch. He stared down at his crossbow, confusion flitting over his features.

"I don't understand," he said to no one in particular. "I aimed perfectly."

"Something wrong," Merlin called mockingly.

Arthur refused to give a response to his manservant and instead shot him a particularly frightening glare over his shoulder. Merlin merely laughed. Arthur raised the bow once more and this time when the arrow loosed it hit the bullseye with a satisfied smack.

Arthur turned to his men and bowed, throwing a mocking smirk in Merlin's direction. This little wager was all but won.

Merlin allowed Arthur to parade around for a moment, seeking praise from his fellow knights. He had allowed that last arrow to find its mark. He didn't want Arthur getting too suspicious and while he was sure that he would never guess Merlin had used magic, past events were proof of that, he didn't want Arthur to look into it further.

Arthur stopped his parade in front of Merlin and forcefully pushed the weapon into his chest.

"Your turn," he said gleefully. "Let's see you beat that."

Merlin took his place at the archery line and for the first time felt doubt creep up his spine. How the hell were you supposed to load this thing? Merlin realized that his aversion to weaponry would probably hinder him during his quest to protect Arthur. It would be something he would have to remedy in the near future, however distasteful it might be.

Arthur watched as his servant fumbled with the bow attempting to load the weapon. He was painfully aware of his men behind him and heard a few muted laughs. He turned to them and glared and any signs of amusement ceased. He was allowed to laugh at Merlin's ineptitude, but the thought of someone else making fun of his friend irritated him.

"Here," he said softly, stepping beside Merlin and taking the bow from his clumsy fingers. "Let me show you."

Merlin watched as Arthur loaded the bow for him, explaining in soft tones how he was to do it in the future. Merlin frequently wondered how Arthur would ever turn into the king he was destined to be, but every so often Arthur would show a presence of mind so unlike the rash, arrogant persona that he often sported that Merlin's faith in the young prince was instantly renewed. This was one such moment. As Arthur patiently taught him Merlin found he felt slightly guilty at what he was about to do; only slightly, however, because Merlin knew that this side of his friend wouldn't stay around long and he would be back to being an arrogant prat in no time at all. He had to take his victories where he could get them.

Sure enough the moment he stepped back, his arrogant smile was back in place.

"Now try not to shoot anyone," he called.

Merlin sighed. How did he get himself into these situations?

Taking a steadying breath he raised the bow to his shoulder like he had seen Arthur do many times before though he doubted he looked anywhere near as graceful or confident as his master.

"Just pull the trigger," Arthur shouted, trying not to sound too encouraging. To be honest he was interested to see what his manservant could do. Perhaps Merlin wasn't the pansy everyone thought him to be, though if how he was holding the weapon was any indication of his abilities Arthur wouldn't hold his breath.

Merlin pulled the trigger and his arrow shot forward in a flight path completely off target. With a flash of his eyes, however, the arrow made a subtle change in direction and landed squarely in the bullseye.

He heard a collective gasp behind him and turned to see Arthur's mouth open wide in shock.

"Careful," he warned the prince. "You keep your mouth open like that and something is sure to fly in."

Arthur's jaw closed with a snap as he stared at his manservant with something akin to wonder.

"How did you-," he stammered. "That's impossible. You couldn't have-there is no way that you-."

Merlin smirked then frowned as Arthur's eyes narrowed.

"Beginners luck," the prince said arrogantly.

"Perhaps," Merlin replied.

He turned back to the second arrow and while he still fumbled with the weapon he was able to load it on his own. He loosed the arrow once more and while he corrected its path he made sure to not allow it to hit the bullseye, lest it look too unbelievable. The arrow landed about two inches from its target and Merlin heard Arthur laugh. He refused to pay attention to him, knowing that his laughter would cease in another moment. Merlin intended to win this bet, the prince's pride be damned.

He drew the final arrow and with a small smile released it once more. This time, he was surprised to find, he barely had to alter the trajectory at all, though he was sure this was merely a case of what Arthur deemed beginners luck. The arrow changed course one last time and thudded into its intended target. There had never been a sound more pleasing to Merlin's ears.


	6. The Merlin Mystery

A hush had fallen around him and he turned to look back and found several dozen eyes staring at him in awe. He cared little for their unwarranted admiration and sought the one face he did care to see.

Arthur was standing where he had been, his face unreadable. Merlin grew slightly concerned. It was not often that Merlin couldn't decipher the thoughts in his friends mind and if he couldn't it usually meant Arthur was trying to puzzle something out, which was never a good sign. Despite all of Merlin's insistence that Arthur was an idiot he knew this not to be the case and had always counted on the prince's lack of noticing the odd things that occurred around him. Merlin prayed that this was not to be an exception to Arthur's blindness rule.

"You alright, Arthur," Merlin called, trepidation creeping into his voice.

"You did something," Arthur said quietly, looking up at his servant for the first time.

"Come again?"

"You heard me," Arthur growled, his voice dangerously low. "You did something. You cheated!"

"I didn't," Merlin stammered, hyper aware of the fact that he had, indeed, cheated.

"You must have," Arthur snarled. "There is no other way you could have beaten me!"

"Could you be more arrogant," Merlin snapped, anger creeping into his words.

Arthur had no idea, no idea at all, how powerful Merlin really was. He tried not to let Arthur's belief that his servant was useless get to him, but every so often he got the strongest urge to wipe Arthur's self-satisfied smirk off his face.

Arthur opened his mouth to reply with something he was sure he would regret, but was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder. He looked around and was surprised to see Leon standing calmly behind him, his face passive and unreadable.

"Sire," he said gently. "How could he have cheated? He had no opportunities to sabotage the arrows before the bet was made and they were all gathered from your locked stash. It wouldn't be possible and even if it were, it's Merlin. Its doubtful that he would do something like that."

Merlin felt a rush of shame at Leon's words of praise. The thought that Leon had enough belief in his character to find the idea of him cheating unrealistic was something very special indeed. It almost made him sad to disappoint the man's expectations of him, but he reminded himself that he wasn't hurting Leon or anyone else for that matter. His only goal was to remind the prince that arrogance wasn't something anyone liked. He had done this the only way he knew how.

Arthur was quiet for a long moment, allowing Leon's words to sink in. He knew, of course, that his manservant hadn't cheated. It would have been impossible for him to do so. The ache of defeat, however, was never something Arthur suffered lightly and found his thoughts flashing to what his father would think if he ever discovered that his son was beaten by a mere serving boy. These thoughts made it difficult for him to accept that he had lost and it wasn't until Leon's quiet, chastising words that Arthur realized he was making a bit of a prat of himself.

He sighed, reluctantly turning to face his servant once more.

"He's right," Arthur said between gritted teeth. "Merlin, I shouldn't have accused you of cheating. I reacted horribly and I'm-"

Merlin had been sure that Arthur was about to apologize and he felt sure that the words would encompass more than Arthur accusing him of foulplay. The servant knew how difficult apologies were for Arthur, especially when they were being made to him. He struggled with the words at the best of times and now, with all of his men watching, Merlin knew it would be near impossible for him to force it past his lips. Merlin decided to save his friend the embarrassment.

"I don't want any apologies from you," he said smiling. "My only satisfaction will be the sight of you cleaning out the stables this week."

Arthur smiled and looked at his servant with gratitude. His words let the prince know that his attempted apology was understood and received while saving him the embarrassment of having to get the words past the lump in his throat. Sometimes he loved Merlin, despite his general uselessness for anything other than annoying him.

"Perhaps it will finally get done right for a change," Arthur quipped, grateful for the banter between them.

"Please," Merlin sighed. "Do you even know how to use a pitchfork?"

"Better than you, surely."

"Care to make another bet?"

"You can't be serious, Merlin. You may have beaten me once, but do you really want to push your luck like that?"

"I bet you won't last a day before you quit," Merlin smirked.

"Your on," Arthur crowed. "If I win you have to serve dinner to my father for an entire week."

"Now hold on a second," Merlin cried, unsure how far he wanted this bet thing to go. "That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"Absolutely not," Arthur replied. "Those are my conditions. What are yours?"

"If I win," Merlin said, thinking for a moment, before a slow smile spread across his face. "If I win you have to serve ME dinner for an entire week."

Arthur snorted at the ridiculousness of that idea. What would his father think if he found him serving food to the young man before him? He would just have to win the bet then. The two shook hands once more and Merlin smiled to himself. He could win this bet without using magic at all.

The knights had returned to their drills, knowing that once the two men got started it would take an act of God to get them to stop. The excitement of that day was something no knight would ever forget, however. When things got difficult and Arthur was being particularly tyrannical the men would smile at the sight of their sovereigns face as he was beaten by the most unlikely character.


	7. Arthur Follows ThroughOr Does He?

"Put your back into it, Arthur," Merlin called in exasperation. "You are moving at a snails pace!"

Arthur looked back at his servant with a glare that would cause a serpent to shake in fear, but Merlin only laughed. Stupid Merlin with his stupid laugh and his stupid face. Arthur wiped sweat from his brow and wrinkled his nose distastefully at the smell of the pile at the end of his pitchfork. He tossed it in his manservant's general direction, but the man had been preparing for something like this and dodged it easily.

"Haven't you got chores to do," Arthur snapped, turning back to the task at hand.

"Nope," Merlin laughed gleefully. " I finished them all last night so I could give this delightful sight my full attention."

"Idiot."

"Clotpole."

"Oaf."

"Arthur," Merlin said, instead of rising to the bait. "You have dung dripping all over your shoes."

Arthur glanced down and sure enough manure was spread out across his boots foul smelling globs of brown and green.

"This is ridiculous," Arthur snapped, turning his heated gaze to his servant. "This isn't my job."

"We made a bet, remember," Merlin reminded him solemnly.

"To hell with the bet," Arthur exclaimed. "I'm done." He looked around until he spotted a young serving boy who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Oi, you," Arthur called. "Come here for a moment."

"Arthur," Merlin scolded. "Really?"

"Its his job," Arthur replied simply, without a hint of remorse. He turned to the serving boy who stared at the prince with wide eyes. "What's your name, boy?"

"Evan, sire," the young man exclaimed, his excitement at being addressed by the prince overwhelmingly clear on his face. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Evan," the prince said kindly. "I need a bit of a favor from you. Its very important, do you think you could manage?"

"Yes sire," the boy cried gleefully. "Whatever it is I am more than happy to do it for you."

"You see," the prince said, his eyes sliding to Merlin. "Evan here knows how to properly serve a prince."

"But unfortunately for you he probably doesn't know how to serve a prat," Merlin mocked.

Evan looked from the prince to the servant in shock. He had heard of the prince's servant being slightly disrespectful, but had never believed he would go so far as to call the prince a name. He was sure he was about to see the young man severely punished and he took no joy from this prospect. He was unbelievably surprised then when he heard the prince laugh.

Arthur playfully shoved Merlin from his precarious perch on the stable door, making sure he landed in the pile of straw behind him. He would feel bad if another stew pot incident were to take place.

"Don't mind him, he's an idiot," Arthur said, turning back to the astonished boy. "I need you to muck out these stables for me this week. Can you help me?"

"Yes sire," the boy stammered.

"Evan," Merlin's voice came from behind the stable door. "You don't have to do this."

"But I want to," came the reply. "Who wouldn't want to serve the prince?"

Arthur laughed as he stepped behind the door and pulled Merlin to his feet.

"He's absolutely right," he teased, before staring at him seriously. "Just so you know my boots need to be cleaned."

Merlin rolled his eyes as Arthur walked away, the prat's arrogant strut not unlike that of a rooster.

"This is unfair," Merlin shouted after him. "We had a deal."

"Life is unfair, Merlin. After all, it made you, didn't it?"

"You still have to serve me dinner this week," he cried, not one to give up easily.

"In your dreams, Merlin!"

Merlin laughed softly and shook his head as Evan took up his place in the stable. He had never expected Arthur to honor the bets because that was just the prince. He was fair and honest when it mattered, but he never felt pressure to be anything other than what he was with Merlin. Getting out of mucking the stables or being served dinner had never been the goal of the bet and he felt that somewhere along the way Arthur had learned a lesson, though he would never admit it.

Arthur's thoughts were on Merlin as he made his way to dinner that night. His servant was a mystery to him and would probably remain so for the rest of his days. If someone had told him four years ago that his best friend would be a servant or that the love of his life would be maid, he would have laughed them from the kingdom. Yet, here he was, defying expectations and the many unwritten rules of nobility, without so much as a second thought. Arthur knew Merlin had never expected for Arthur to keep his word on the bets and he also knew that the servant felt no animosity towards him for it. That was just Merlin. Arthur knew that the man never expected anything from him other than what he was and the relief that brought him was palpable. With Merlin, and Merlin alone, he could cast off his responsibilities and throw caution to the wind. He could talk about anything he wanted, his hopes and dreams, without fear of rejection. He would, he knew, go to the ends of the earth to save his manservant if it ever came to that. He also knew that Merlin was hiding something from him. Something big. But it didn't bother him in the slightest. It didn't matter what the boy was keeping from him because, at the end of the day, Arthur knew that Merlin had Arthur's back and he, likewise, had his unlikely friends.


	8. Authors Note

I wanted to give a brief thank you for all the wonderful reviews I have received. They have really meant a lot to me and I am thrilled to see you enjoy my stories because I thoroughly enjoy writing them. Needless to say my desire to write more has definitely kindled. Thank you again!

Brownpaperbags


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